Three Generations of Smoak
by spaztronaut
Summary: A look inside the minds of the Smoak women when they are each twenty years old.


When Donna Smoak turned twenty she had already been a mother for three years.

Her daughter was the light of her life, the person she cared most about in this world. She had never had much in the way of family, and what she did have had turned her out in the cold when they found out she was pregnant. So, here she was, creating her own family.

Only, her husband, Noah was always so busy, never spending much time with her or their daughter. He worked at some sort of tech company, making decent enough money, but all the late nights, the weekends spent hunched over his computer in their spare room… Donna knew it was more than just work he was doing in there. Whenever she asked about it, though, he would mumble a bunch of techie jargon that he knew went right over her head.

So Donna spent her time with her daughter alone, but that was okay. Her beautiful, little Felicity was more than enough for her.

All she wanted was for Felicity to have more. More money so she didn't have to work as hard as she and Noah did. More love so she'd never end up going to bed alone every night as her husband was typing away at his computer in the other room. And, one day, maybe even a beautiful little girl of her own to fawn over.

###

When Felicity Smoak turned twenty she was as different from her mother as a child could get. At least that's how she felt on the inside. The outside world might see two bubbly blonde women with bright smiles and even brighter lipstick, but Felicity knew otherwise.

Where her mother was full of life and energy, Felicity always felt like she was faking it. She'd given up on her dream of changing the world and instead took a job at a soulless corporation. She didn't exactly isolate herself from the world, but she knew she could do more to put herself out there. Her mother certainly told her so, at least.

_You should date more, Felicity. You work too much, Felicity. So much like your father, Felicity._

But if Felicity was really like her father, she wouldn't know it. He'd left when she was seven and he'd never come back. She wondered, sometimes, what her life would be like if he hadn't left. Would she be more open to relationships—the way her mother wanted her to be—if she didn't always feel like she wasn't good enough?

She knew her mother meant well. She wanted what most mothers want for their children. Love and happiness, and someday _lots of little grand babies to play with_. Her words, not Felicity's. But Felicity didn't know if she could ever give her mother those things. Didn't know if she'd ever have those things. Didn't know if she even wanted those things.

She felt like she had a purpose other than becoming a wife and a mother. Not that she would mind finding love along the way, but… She'd thought she'd found her partner in Cooper, once upon a time, and that had only proven to her the fleeting nature of love. You can think you've found it all, and it can be taken in a heartbeat.

Where would she ever find something like that again? And, after all the pain it had caused her the first time, would she even want to?

###

When Mia Smoak turned twenty she was all alone at a seedy bar in an even seedier city.

She had no friends to celebrate with, mostly because her mother was a completely paranoid liar, and she wasn't speaking to her because… Well, because _hello_! Completely paranoid liar!

She slammed her glass down on the bar and sighed, trying to bottle up the anger she felt whenever she thought about her mother.

Mia hated her. She did. She hated her own mother and, despite the way her gut twisted with guilt at the thought, she couldn't deny it. She had grown up hearing stories about her mom's past. Stories of heroism and greatness. Stories of how her parents had saved Star City over and over in their youth. And yet here she was, sitting in a hole in the wall bar—literally! The place was located in an abandoned building that had been half torn down before construction had been halted—in the very city they'd wasted their time, their lives, trying to save.

Whatever they'd done, it hadn't worked. The city was worse off than before according to most people. Stories of the Star City vigilantes, so different than the one's her mother had told her as a child, circulated among the residents still living there. Stories that painted her parents in a harsher light than her mother had been willing to admit.

She felt stupid—so, so stupid!—for clinging to those stories for so long. But those stories? They were all she had.

Mia had never actually met her father. Oh sure, she knew who he was, knew what he looked like. There were pictures of him all over the house, she'd never wanted for those. Pictures of him holding her as a baby. Smiling widely as he held her in his arms. She could tell, even just from the photos, that he'd loved her. And she'd had those stories. Stories of her father, the hero, saving the city from an army of super soldiers, ninjas, magic!

When she was a kid she used to wish she could have met him. That she could have been a part of the stories. She used to wonder sometimes how it was possible to miss someone so much when you'd never even known them.

Now she was older though. Now she knew better.

Her father was no better than her mother, and her mother was a lying vigilante.

She never wanted to be like them. No, she thought, taking another swig of her drink. Nothing good ever came from thinking you were special enough to save the world.

Her phone vibrated from the inside pocket of her jacket, but she didn't bother to check who it was. There was only person who'd call her on her birthday and Mia didn't want to talk to her.

The phone vibrated a few more times then went still.

Mia took another drink.


End file.
